


Vegas

by LtLJ



Series: Retrograde [7]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character of Color, Friendship, Multi, Open Relationships, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-31
Updated: 2006-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney was just trying to figure out how he ended up in a reality show called "Air Force Majors and Athosian Leaders Gone Wild."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Cover by Fatuorum

So Rodney was back on Earth, because fucking Daniel Jackson found a fucking ZPM.

They had taken Jackson to one of the Ancient ruins the expedition archeologists were particularly fond of, and he had been wandering around the heaps of stone with Corrigan and Rousseau, talking in three different languages and stopping every so often to dramatically contemplate a pile of dirt. Rodney had been following with Sheppard, Teyla, Stackhouse, Mitchell, and several Marines, making sure nothing ate the archeologists.

Then Jackson had stopped in front of a wall with Ancient writing, gotten a weird expression on his face, drifted down the wall to another spot. (Mitchell had actually said, "Hey, hey, watch this, he's going to find something!") Jackson had said, "Major Sheppard, could you put your hand here, please." Sheppard had ambled over, put his hand on the Ancient symbol, and a fucking ZPM had popped out of the wall.

Rodney's memories of the next few moments were confused. He remembered lying down on the ground, and Teyla fanning him, and Sheppard standing over him saying, "Come on, Rodney, snap out of it. You're missing the whole ZPM thing here." Jackson was saying something about how there was a certain element of instinct based on experience in archeology, while Corrigan and Rousseau wept openly at his feet. Then Rodney had crawled to the ZPM, extracted it from the wall, clutched it to his chest and ordered them to take him to the stargate immediately. Mitchell had said something stupid, along the lines of, "Shouldn't we keep looking in case there's some more?" and the rest was a blur.

By the time they had finished the testing and integrated the new ZPM into the city's power grid, the _Daedalus_ had arrived with Dr. Nguyen and the other members of the Atlantis committee Elizabeth had asked O'Neill to bring. There were negotiations and discussions, and they agreed to send a contingent from Atlantis back to Earth via the gate, once the _Daedalus_ had had time to return. They had argued for the next three weeks about who was going to go, then dialed a wormhole to Earth. Now they had been here for two weeks, and Rodney was punch drunk from days of debriefings, hearings to determine what charges were going to be filed against the Trust prisoners, and testifying before various committees.

Then Samantha Carter had suddenly walked in, told him he had four days off starting now, and dragged him outside. Now he was standing in the SGC's parking garage with a backpack slung over one shoulder and four days off, and he had no idea what he was going to do. He wasn't even certain where the others were.

"Do you need a ride to your hotel?" Carter asked him, brow furrowed. "Or are you going to see your family?"

A rational question. "Um, I have no idea," Rodney told her. He made a vague twirly gesture. "Everything's been so...." He made the vague twirly gesture again, since it seemed to illustrate his point all too well. "Fast. Everything's been very fast."

Carter hesitated, eyeing him, lips quirking. And he had the weird feeling she was about to offer him something. Maybe a ride to the hotel. Maybe dinner. Maybe dinner and incredibly hot sex. Okay, the last one was probably wishful thinking.

Then a blue Mustang purred up next to them. Sheppard leaned out the window, wearing his black aviator glasses. "Get in," he said. "We're taking Teyla to Vegas."

Rodney stared. "First question: Why?"

Used to reading expression past the dark glasses, Rodney could tell Sheppard thought this was a stupid thing to ask. He said, "Because General O'Neill threw car keys at me and said, 'take Teyla to Vegas.'"

Rodney nodded. "Well, yes, I see. It's insane, so it's not odd that he would suggest it. Especially to you."

Carter leaned on the car and nodded, apparently unsurprised. "Jack took Teal'c to Vegas. They liked the pirate ship and the castle, but the pyramid gave Jack flashbacks."

"I am eager to see the marketplaces of Earth," Teyla said from the shotgun seat. She was wearing her everyday clothes, which were leather pants and the hot blue stretchy bodice thing. She was also wearing one of those ridiculous floppy BDU hats the SGC was always trying to force their science consultants to wear in the field. On her it looked good. "Major Sheppard says there are many of them in this city."

"Have them take you to the Versace marketplace," Sam told her, opening the back door and prodding Rodney in. "I think you'll like that one a lot."

Sheppard tipped his sunglasses down to give her a look. "Gosh, thanks, Colonel."

Rodney slumped helplessly into the car. "I can't-- Are you serious?"

"Sure," Sheppard said, and the car roared off.

  
***

  
They were at a Denny's in the middle of fricking nowhere before various things occurred to Rodney. That he had a pistol in his backpack, because the idea of going anywhere not Atlantis unarmed was physically impossible, that Sheppard and Teyla were probably both armed to the teeth and you weren't supposed to do that here, in Nevada and especially in Denny's, and that Rodney was probably the only one with any kind of valid ID. He realized he was used to Sheppard and Teyla handling these kind of details when they were offworld; now Teyla didn't have a clue and Sheppard had lost the ability to do anything except make sarcastic remarks and look bored.

And that he was in Denny's with _Sheppard_ and _Teyla_, which was just too fucking surreal.

Sheppard hadn't even wanted to go to Earth at all, but the committee had needed him to testify against Donner and the other Trust agents. He had been dragging his heels right up to the last instant, to the point where Rodney thought Elizabeth was going to have to yell "look over there!" so Teyla could body-check him through the wormhole. In the midst of all that passive-aggressive denial, Rodney was pretty certain Sheppard hadn't bothered to pack a change of civilian clothes, let alone find his ID. If he even had a change of civilian clothes left intact; he was wearing a black BDU t-shirt and a battered pair of jeans stained with Wraith blood. Rodney leaned across the sticky table and demanded, "Do you even have a valid driver's license?"

Sheppard ate a french fry and shrugged in the most annoying way possible.

"Do not tease." Stirring her milk shake with the straw, Teyla gave Sheppard a look of mild reproof. She told Rodney, "Walter gave me a packet that holds all the necessary documents for travel, and explained their uses, and under what circumstances we must produce them."

Rodney massaged his temple, trying to soothe away his aneurism. "Who the hell is Walter?"

"The man who acts as O'Neill's assistant," Teyla replied calmly. "That is the name O'Neill shouted at him." She fished a manila envelope out of her bag.

Rodney snatched it, dumping it out on the table. Inside was everything they might need, including a current driver's license for Sheppard, his military ID, insurance cards for the car, copies of Rodney's green card and passport, a passport for Teyla -- Sheppard flipped through it, telling her earnestly, "If anybody asks, you're from Sweden."

"He also gave me this communications device," Teyla pulled out a slim cell phone, studying it thoughtfully. "And a list of codes to enter to contact whoever we may need to speak to. O'Neill said that if we need assistance with anything we should contact him. Though he said if it is after midnight, we should call someone named Major Davis instead."

Rodney snatched the cell phone. For three years, they had all been practically fused to their headsets, anybody you wanted to speak to just a channel switch away. Now they were on Earth, and Rodney's entire support network had been reduced to less than ten people. They could be followed by Trust operatives; what if he needed Marines? Or a doctor, with fucking Carson off in fucking Scotland? Or a biologist, or an engineer? "What's Carson's number?" he demanded. "Is it on the list?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes, but Teyla patted Rodney's hand and said, "You do not need to call Dr. Beckett. All is well."

  
***

  
It was late afternoon when they reached Vegas, and Rodney was hungry, sweaty, and groggy. The back seat of the car wasn't as comfortable as throwing a pad and a sleeping bag down on the floor of a jumper, and he wasn't used to the motion anymore. And Las Vegas was even more insanely overblown than he remembered.

As they drove along the strip, past the big hotels, Teyla's jaw dropped. "I thought--" she managed.

"You thought we were lying," Sheppard said, throwing her a grin.

"Is this entire city built for nothing but pleasure?" she asked, caught somewhere between awe and horror.

Sheppard shrugged. "There's probably houses or something somewhere."

They ate in a hotel complex that seemed to be modeled on Versailles, which had the "marketplace" that Carter had told Teyla to go to; the people there were very happy to see Rodney's credit card.

Teyla emerged clutching a shopping bag whose contents probably cost more than a year's GNP of Athos pre-Wraith culling. She said, "There are more 'stores' like this?"

"No," Rodney said immediately. "Just this one."

Sheppard, who had left his IQ in the SGC gateroom, said, "Sure. Lots."

Teyla nodded soberly. "I wish to see all of them."

Rodney was horrified to discover that she wasn't joking.

The gambling Teyla could care less about; her only experience with it had been playing poker in Atlantis, where whatever random crap was available stood in for chips. She found the idea of throwing away money on games ridiculous, especially when there were all these places where it could be traded for food and pre-made clothing. Rodney could see her point; after three years of alien goats and barter, a store where you just walked in and paid a set price for what you wanted, no arguments, no fussy trading customs, was a giant relief. She wasn't keen on exchanging money just for entertainment, either, but Rodney managed to talk her into the _Star Trek_ exhibit by pointing out that it had a store, too. Sheppard had dragged his heels, until Rodney had realized what was wrong and said, "Oh please, you can wear Teyla's hat if you're so damn sensitive."

By the time the pirate ship sunk, it was evening, the lights were far too bright, and Rodney was again sweaty, hungry, groggy, and now exhausted. Standing in the ebb and flow of noisy humanity, he told Sheppard, "I need to get out of here or I will die."

"Bar?" Sheppard suggested.

"Hotel," Rodney countered.

"This is a hotel," Sheppard protested.

"This is an amusement park for drunks."

Rodney had checked brochures earlier and picked one of the resort hotels outside of town, because it looked expensive and luxurious and large enough to have quiet places to retreat to away from the damn noisy casinos. Driving out to it through the cool night air revived all three of them, and Teyla nodded approval when they turned into the parking lot. The buildings were like Italian piazzas in a modern version of Venice, with reflecting pools and palm trees, a fantasy oasis in a stark desert night. It would have looked overdone against all the other crazy structures of the Strip, but out here it was classic and exotic. Teyla said, "This is very pretty, and it looks like a place in which people would actually live."

While Sheppard and Teyla wandered around the cool marble lobby, Rodney went to the registration desk and told the clerk, "We don't have a reservation and I have special dietary requirements. But we're only here for a few days and we're prepared to spend a ridiculously large amount of money."

She smiled brilliantly. "You've come to the right place, sir!"

The right place was a four bedroom suite made to look like a miniature Italian Renaissance palace, if Italian Renaissance palaces had a wet bar, pool table, home theater system, and enough sound equipment to re-master the White Album. There was also an enclosed private courtyard with spanish tile and palm trees, containing a plunge pool, a hot tub, and an outdoor fireplace.

"Why is it called a 'plunge' pool?" Teyla asked, standing in the french doors.

"Um, it's a pool, and you plunge into it," Sheppard said. Teyla lifted a brow, and he admitted, "Beats me."

Rodney tipped the bellman extra for pretending not to notice that his backpack and Teyla's leather satchel and shopping bags were their only luggage and for not implying by so much as an eyebrow twitch that he thought anybody was a prostitute.

Rodney wanted dinner, but because he had somehow ended up in a reality show called "Air Force Majors and Athosian Leaders Gone Wild," they went to in one of the hotel's very expensive bars, which had music and a dance floor and waitresses with even tighter tops than Teyla and an obscenely large selection of foreign and domestic beers.

He was at a relatively quiet table in the back tasting his first Molson in more than three years when the cell phone buzzed. He fumbled it out to hear Elizabeth say, "Rodney! Where are you?"

"I'm in Vegas. Where are you calling from? Are you at the--" Rodney managed to restrain himself from saying SGC in a public place, on an unshielded line. "--at the, at our workplace? Where we work?"

"I'm at the Pentagon. Rodney, I can't speak candidly right now, but is John all right?"

"He's...fine." He supposed she wanted to know that Sheppard was alive, not that he was at the bar teaching Teyla what a Jell-O shot was. "Didn't you know where we were? He said O'Neill told him to go to Vegas."

"I just wanted to make certain--"

Then O'Neill's voice demanded suspiciously, "McKay, are you in a stripper bar?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, General, I took Teyla Emmagen to a titty bar because I want to die by being thrown through a plate glass window."

"Jack, get off the extension," Elizabeth snapped.

"Don't go to the pyramid," O'Neill said, and hung up.

Elizabeth said, "Rodney, I have to go, but call me if you need anything, and keep an eye on John."

"Why am I keeping an eye on--" The connection was dead. Rodney swore and ordered another beer.

Then for some reason, everybody started calling.

Sam Carter called to ask if they were having a good time. Rodney told her that Teyla now had a $5000 leather jacket, which he was sure would come in very handy the next time she had to sling his bleeding body over her shoulder and jump through a stargate. She laughed and hung up. Someone named Sergeant Harriman called to make sure Teyla had everything she needed. Then Daniel Jackson called, saying, "McKay? Do you know where the Ancient cable interface is to download the--" Rodney shouted, "I'm off the clock!" and hung up on him.

Rodney answered the next call to hear a brief hesitation, then, "Oh, it's Dr. McKay. Hi, uh. I was trying to reach Major Sheppard."

"Yes, Colonel Mitchell, I bet you were," Rodney snarled, and hung up.

John dropped into the chair and slumped back, giving him the lazy grin. "Who was on the phone?"

Rodney grimaced, rubbing his forehead. "Who wasn't on the phone is the question. Almost the entire SGC has checked in, including your heterosexual boyfriend. Now if Hammond, Teal'c, Thor, and Master Bra'tac would call, we'd have the complete set."

John ate a pretzel, watching him narrowly. "Do you know Master Bra'tac?"

Rodney took a deep calming breath. "You are just drunk enough to be stupid."

Teyla sat down at the table, asking seriously, "Are the Blue Men human or are they like the Asgard?"

Rodney couldn't pry them out of the damn bar until four in the morning.

  
***

  
When Rodney managed to drag himself out of bed the next day, Sheppard was on the couch, channel surfing with a speed which suggested terminal ADD and Teyla was sitting on the floor, looking at tourist brochures.

Staggering past, Rodney saw she was wearing a pink mini-dress thing with sandals with big plastic flowers. On her it looked good. Then he stopped and squinted suspiciously at Sheppard's t-shirt. "You didn't go to USC."

Sheppard was scrunched into the corner of the couch, feet up on the slate coffee table. He gave Rodney a laconic eyebrow tilt that conveyed a whole realm of "I don't want to hear about it," and said, "I borrowed it from Mitchell."

Rodney rolled his eyes, then staggered to the phone. "Coffee. Breakfast."

"Will they have the flat cakes with the embossed squares?" Teyla asked hopefully, looking up.

"Waffles." Rodney propped himself up on the wet bar, fumbling for the phone. "For what we're paying, if they don't have it they'll damn well get it."

Rodney put in the order, then collapsed in the leather armchair. "We need to go shopping, and I'm not talking about the kind of shopping associated with Teyla's revelation that diamonds are a girl's best friend. I have a huge list, and there have to be stores in this town somewhere that sell things other than crotchless panties."

For some reason, this simple and rational statement caused Sheppard to scrunch further down into the couch. "Whatever. Just tell me where you want to go."

Rodney flung his hands in the air. "What, you don't have a list? You haven't had socks for two years. You have no civilian clothes, except trophy t-shirts collected from--"

Sheppard fixed him with a dark narrow glare. "Rodney. This is Earth. I can leave you at a gas station in Death Valley with no pants."

"Okay, fine!" Rodney snapped. "But what's wrong?"

Watching them with worried concern, Teyla lifted a brow. "You should tell him."

"Tell me what?" Rodney demanded. It couldn't be money; Sheppard should have at least three years of back combat pay. And they had been living in Atlantis with its bizarre pseudo-communist agrarian economy long enough that Rodney hadn't even blinked at subsidizing Teyla's buying spree, though what the woman needed with three bikinis he had no idea. "What?"

Eyes locked on the TV, Sheppard shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. Teyla apparently correctly interpreted that as "you tell him." She turned to Rodney and said seriously, "There is a problem. We have enemies in the place called the Pentagon. They do not want the Major to return to Atlantis with us. O'Neill and Dr. Weir have gone there to attempt to negotiate with them."

Rodney felt his jaw drop. And O'Neill had sent Sheppard to Vegas. "What-- You-- He sent you here so no one can find you. So you can't answer questions."

Sheppard shrugged again. "I already answered all the questions. They're deliberating. There's no point in me being there."

"But they can't-- We need--" Rodney burst out, "Are they crazy? How the hell--"

Sheppard said in exasperation, "I was only the ranking officer because I shot Sumner--"

Rodney shoved to his feet, pacing back and forth. "God, he was being taken by a Wraith! And we need you! They can't possibly--"

"They can, Rodney." Sheppard's voice hardened. "The only reason they let me go on the expedition in the first place was because Sumner was there."

He rounded on Sheppard, knowing he sounded accusing and unable to help himself. "Then why did you agree to come back here?"

Sheppard didn't even get angry. He just looked impossibly weary, as if the past three years had all caught up with him in one moment. "What was the other choice? Take off through the gate and go to ground somewhere in Pegasus? Sneak back to visit occasionally and beg for scraps? I don't want to be that guy, Rodney."

"Shut up!" Rodney grabbed Sheppard's t-shirt, knotting his fists in the warm cotton. "Just what-- Did O'Neill say what the chances were? He's helping you, right? I mean, he's on our side. Sort of. Right?"

"He saw me kill Gaines. He's not going to lie about that." Sheppard shrugged. "But they've got so much evidence against Donner, I don't think I have to worry about charges."

"What. Did. O'Neill. Say?" Rodney punctuated each word with a shake. It would have looked manly and commanding, if Sheppard wasn't just lying back on the couch cushions with a thoughtful expression, tugging absently on one of the tassels.

Sheppard sighed. "He told me Teal'c sent somebody a guy's head in a bag once, parcel post. And then he asked me if I wanted some pie."

"Oh God, you're not making that up!" Rodney let him go, gesturing wildly. "They can't ask us to do this without you. Do you have any idea-- The only thing that held us together all this time was the fact that we knew from day one that you would go into a hive ship after any one of us. We need you! I don't care what kind of incorrigible fuck-up you were before this!"

Sheppard snorted. "You know, this is why I didn't tell you." He added, "Teyla understands."

Teyla eyed him. "I do not understand."

Sheppard lifted his head to glare at her. "You said you did."

"I did not. I said--"

"You told Elizabeth you did."

Rodney had to interrupt, "Please, we sound like we're in some sort of freakish group marriage."

Teyla persisted, "On Atlantis there were times when others tried to take you from us. We fought them, and killed them if necessary. I do not understand why being here makes it different."

There was a long moment of silence from the couch. Then Sheppard said, "Because this is Earth."

Rodney took a couple of deep breaths. He could deal with this. He could deal with this. He could build an explosive device and hold something hostage. "When will we know? Is it today?"

Sheppard grimaced. "I don't know."

Teyla shook her head. "Dr. Weir said it may take a few days."

A few days. Rodney thumped himself in the forehead. That was why the whirlwind of activity in the SGC had suddenly stopped, why they had been given four days off when he hadn't had a chance to go over more than a quarter of their data with the Atlantis committee. Why Carter had practically given him the bum's rush out of the briefing room. "The data. Elizabeth can use that as leverage. The international committee...." Sheppard just looked tired again, as if he couldn't stand to hear anymore, and Rodney thought about this dragging out for weeks, months. He finished weakly, "We can't just sit here."

"I think we should go to the pyramid," Teyla said.

Rodney frowned at her. "What?"

She shrugged. "We have been told twice not to go. Perhaps there is a reason. It makes me curious."

"Hello, the reason is that O'Neill has been insane for ten years and no one at the SGC wants to admit it!" Rodney flung his arms in the air. "Oh fine, we'll go to the damn pyramid."

  
***

  
They didn't go to the damn pyramid because when they got to it, Sheppard said, "What if there's really Goa'uld here?" and Rodney decided abruptly that he wanted to go somewhere else.

But then they stumbled on an upscale strip mall and Teyla remembered that she hadn't quite worn the numbers off Rodney's credit cards. In the first store she held up a lace nighty-like garment and said, "Do you think Dr. Simpson would like this?"

Rodney stared, and made a strangled noise of horror. Teyla just frowned thoughtfully, eyeing the translucent material. "Or Dr. Weir?"

Sheppard's eyes got big and he said, "Uh, I can't know that."

Rodney flung a credit card at her, said, "Buy whatever you want," and dragged Sheppard to the electronics place next door. Ten minutes later, he froze. "Wait a minute," he said, turning to Sheppard. "You think she did that on purpose?"

They stared at each other. "Huh," Sheppard commented.

But three stores later Sheppard forgot to pretend that everything was okay and said, "Hey, if I get this will you take it back to Jinto?"

Rodney stared, said, "Sure. I've got to--" and bolted outside.

He found a bench in a seating area outside an ice cream store and got out the cell phone and the list O'Neill had given Teyla. He tried to call Carter first, but he just got her voice mail, which probably meant she was on the _Daedalus_ and that he would have to get the call relayed through the SGC, and he didn't want random techs listening to him having completely justified hysterics. He couldn't get connected to Jackson's phone at all, even to get voice mail, which probably meant he was in a shielded area or another dimension or God knew what. He didn't want to call Elizabeth or O'Neill directly. So he gritted his teeth, gave in, and called Mitchell. That call went through immediately, and he said forcefully, "Colonel Mitchell, this is Dr. Rodney McKay."

"Yeah, I recognized your voice. It's...very distinctive."

"So I've been told," Rodney sneered, though he was already so off-script he had no idea what he was saying. Wrenching the conversation back to the point, he said, "I know that Elizabeth and O'Neill are at the Pentagon, and I know what's going on."

"Uh, okay."

"So tell me what the hell is going on!"

Mitchell took a deep breath. "The general and Dr. Weir have been trying to push through a promotion for Sheppard and get him formally assigned as CO of Atlantis, but there's been some resistance to it. More than they anticipated. He's got a lot of enemies, still. It's kind of freaky. But we've got General Hammond and General Landry in our court, so--"

"What do you mean 'more than they anticipated?'" Rodney grated out. "What 'more?' O'Neill's a general, he wants to promote him, how can they--"

"The promotion isn't the problem," Mitchell interrupted. "The offer they got was a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, then a desk job."

Rodney went blank. That didn't make sense. "What? A desk job? On Earth?"

Mitchell hesitated. "Yes."

It still didn't make sense. "In the SGC?"

"Lieutenant Colonels don't have desk jobs in the SGC." Mitchell lowered his voice. "They want him back at McMurdo."

Antarctica. Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the cool marble wall of the building behind him, because screaming "fuck!" and running around the tables in the little cafe area wasn't an option, and there was no one he could punch without getting arrested. "Why?"

"I know it's fucked up, I know." Mitchell let the words out with relief, like he had been dying to say this to somebody. "We expected a little resistance, you know, certain authorities jockeying for more control in Atlantis. And we got that, and Dr. Weir let them know it wasn't going to fly, and the committee made it clear they were supporting her, and it looked like a done deal. Then it just got weirdly personal all of a sudden. These guys are insisting that fifteen minutes after the wormhole to Atlantis closed Sheppard must have shot Sumner in the head and made violent love to Dr. Weir and you guys are all just lying to cover it up 'cause you're all, I don't know, insane or something."

Rodney felt like he was going to throw up. "How long has he known? Sheppard, I mean, when did this happen?"

"It hit the fan about four days ago." He could hear Mitchell trying to make his tone reassuring. "Look, Dr. McKay, try not to worry. It's gonna be okay."

Rodney bit back a kneejerk snarl of outrage. Mitchell's "it's going to be okay" wasn't anymore helpful than Sheppard's "it's going to be okay," usually delivered at moments when you were about to be eaten by Wraith or the city was in danger of exploding or the only stargate was about to fall into a pool of lava. He managed, "What, I don't-- Is it a hearing? Why aren't we there testifying?"

"It's not a hearing. They've already reviewed all the testimony, it's just sitting in a room with people who are trying to get Dr. Weir and General O'Neill to back down." Mitchell snorted. "You can imagine how well that's going." Rodney heard the distinctive sound of a plastic bottle thunking its way out of a vending machine. "I gotta go. O'Neill keeps making them stop so he can send me out for gum and Twinkies and whatever weird shit he can think of to annoy everybody. As soon as I know anything, I'll call you guys."

He hung up, and Rodney just sat there bleakly. He thought about Sheppard's comment about going to ground in Pegasus, about not wanting to be that guy. The guy the Pentagon still thought he was. To go through all that, all the death and discovery and pain and wonder, and have it all mean nothing. To be separated from not only your job, life, home, friends, but from everyone who knew what you really were. With not even the consolation of being thought worthy of an SGC assignment. He tried to tell himself that that last insult was just expediency. That they didn't want Sheppard under O'Neill's command. Rodney had to admit, it would be like charging Pancho Villa with keeping Che Guevara out of trouble.

He looked up to see Teyla standing over him, eating a box of popcorn, with a cluster of shopping bags looped over her arm. She saw his expression and froze. "Did someone contact us?"

"No. I called Mitchell; I couldn't reach Carter or Jackson." Rodney shook his head, grimacing. "I just wanted to hear a little more about what was going on."

She sat down beside him, her face glum. "So there is no word yet?"

"No, not yet." He waved a hand helplessly. "Do you understand what it will mean if they manage to assign him back to McMurdo?"

She nodded. "It is exile, and an insult. O'Neill explained it very clearly -- for him." She tugged on the floppy BDU hat she was still wearing. "And then he told me all will be well, and gave me this hat."

Rodney buried his face in his hands. "Everybody we depend on for survival is insane."

"This is true," Teyla agreed soberly.

Sheppard wandered up, a box from the toy store tucked under his arm. He tipped his sunglasses down to eye them suspiciously. "What?"

Impulsively, Rodney said, "You could always resign and come back as a civilian consultant."

Sheppard lifted his brows. "And undermine whoever they send as CO?"

Rodney brightened. "Yes! Yes, exactly." Teyla nodded hopefully.

Sheppard pushed his sunglasses back up. "Who wants ice cream?"

  
***

  
It was evening before they made it back to their hotel, or, as Rodney was beginning to think of it, that big place attached to their bar. But this time he had a plan.

He waited until Sheppard had put away enough to be marginally tractable, then waved a beer in front of him. "They can send these to our room. Our comfortable, quiet room? It even has a TV. You like those, don't you? They have lots of channels, and you don't have to spend more than ten seconds on any of them. Come on, come on, follow the beer."

It was primitive, but it got them back to the suite.

Rodney must have been too emphatic on the phone with room service, but he was distracted because Sheppard and Teyla were in the plunge pool, apparently practicing unarmed underwater combat. Walruses flopping around in it would have made less noise and besides, Rodney wanted to get out there and watch. So he was a little startled to find he had apparently ordered something that came with a chef, a giant gas grill to cook it on, two waiters, and a sommelier. The chef took one look at Sheppard and Teyla's dripping clothes and diplomatically pretended that he had always intended to serve it on the table out on the patio.

Whatever, there was a lot of it, and it was really, really good. After the second course, even Teyla got a funny expression on her face and said, "I begin to understand why you are all so obsessed with food."

At one point the chef asked, "So have you folks been enjoying the casino?"

"No. Gambling is a contemptible activity," Teyla said. Apparently realizing that might not be a politic statement to make in this town, she added, "We are simply viewing the city, while waiting for news about the Major's next assignment."

"Oh. You're in the army?" The chef looked doubtfully at Sheppard, which must be the standard reaction to hearing that the military had anything to do with him or vice versa, because Sheppard smiled blandly and said, "Air Force." He added earnestly, "Teyla here is from Sweden."

Rodney rolled his eyes and had another drink.

When everything had been cleared away and the staff had left, Rodney burst out, "What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing, to you guys." Sheppard slouched back in the chair, staring at the night sky past the patio lights. "I've known this was going to happen since we figured out O'Neill wasn't lying to us about the Trust."

"But they have no right--"

"Yeah, they do." Sheppard pinned him with a look. "We're either part of Earth, or we're not. And being part of Earth means supplies, ships, more personnel. Right now if we take a major hit, if we lose people who have skills we can't replace, we're screwed. You know that."

Rodney swore and shoved to his feet. He wanted to rage and argue, because Mitchell had said that they had expected politics and power plays but that this was weirdly personal, and that just wasn't fucking professional, no matter how big an asshole Sheppard had been in the past, to hold up the advancement of the entire human race just because somebody saw a chance to finally take a shot at him. And he kept thinking about the damn m-suits that couldn't possibly last another six months, and they just didn't have the materials to repair them or make more, and they couldn't find the Ancient version. And if they didn't have the m-suits they couldn't repair the satellite, and if they couldn't repair the satellite they were asking for another hive ship attack. He snarled, "I hate it when you're right!"

Sheppard stood, picked up a wine bottle by the neck and wandered over to thump down on the pool lounger. Then Teyla went to him, took the bottle away, and pushed him down on his back. She said, "I think it is foolish to waste this night in argument."

Rodney stared, startled out of his fury. Sheppard looked up at her for a long moment, then reached up and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

Rodney blinked a lot. Then he said, "Teyla's drunk."

Sheppard laughed lazily. "Teyla had two glasses of wine and one shot of tequila, which she spit out. She's not drunk."

"There was a disgusting little creature in the bottle," Teyla informed Rodney with an expression of distaste. "I understand it is customary, but I refuse to participate."

"Hey, we paid extra for the disgusting little creature." Sheppard stretched, his shirt riding up, exposing the flat stomach with the treasure trail of hair leading down.

"Oh, well, then." Rodney shifted uncomfortably, prepared to be a martyr. A loud persistent martyr, but a martyr nonetheless. "You want me to leave, I suppose."

Sheppard snorted. "No." He added affectionately, "Dumbass."

Teyla gave him a little smile. "Why would we want that?" she said, still twining her fingers with Sheppard's.

Rodney blinked again. "Oh."

  
***

  
Rodney woke when he felt Sheppard tense and draw a sharp breath. Rodney was lying on one side of him, Teyla on the other. Her head was pillowed on Sheppard's stomach, her hair soft against Rodney's ribs. The suite wasn't completely dark; they had forgotten to turn off the main bathroom light, and the curtains over the french doors to the courtyard were open, letting in moonlight. Rodney said, "Earth."

Sheppard sank back against the pillows, muttering, "I thought that was a nightmare."

  
***

  
Rodney didn't struggle out of bed until nearly noon. He knew Sheppard and Teyla had been up earlier, because Sheppard had shaken him awake at some ungodly hour and said, "Hey, we're going to the pool. Want to come?" and Rodney had batted him away with a pillow.

When he made it into the main room, Sheppard was sitting at the table, feet propped up, doing the crossword from the paper. He was wearing one of Rodney's shirts. Teyla was in the other chair, wearing a yellow tank top and shorts, reading the financial section. It was a weirdly normal domestic scene. Rodney headed for the phone. "Coffee. Breakfast."

"Waffles," Teyla reminded him.

"Right." Rodney picked up the phone. "Oh, and no more citrus for you two. If we're going to be exchanging bodily fluids, I don't want you to poison me."

Sheppard's brow furrowed as he filled in another word. "Jeeze, Rodney, you're such a romantic."

Teyla turned to stare at him, her face incredulous. "Exactly what bodily fluids were you planning on exchanging with us?"

Rodney demanded, "What? You know I'm allergic!"

"I don't think it works like that, Rodney," Sheppard put in.

Rodney reconsidered. He offered, "I could call Carson and ask."

Teyla looked even more incredulous. "I would prefer you did not."

"He's our doctor, it's confidential!"

Sheppard propped his chin on his hand, still working on the puzzle. "So you're going to call him in Scotland while he's sitting at the dinner table with his eighty-year-old mother and ask him if it's okay to go down on us if we have oranges for breakfast?"

Rodney huffed. "Well, if you put it like that--"

"Do the little blue berries contain citrus?" Teyla asked.

"No. You want blueberries?"

"Yes, please."

Then the cell phone, still sitting on the bar, buzzed. Sheppard flicked a wary look at it and Teyla went still. Rodney lunged for it, muttering, "It might be Carter, I left her a message--" He answered it and heard Mitchell's voice, uncharacteristically urgent. "Dr. McKay, let me talk to John, please."

Rodney swallowed in a suddenly dry throat and held out the phone. "It's Mitchell," he croaked.

Sheppard pushed to his feet. His face was completely blank but Rodney could see every tendon in his arm as he reached for the phone. He walked out onto the patio, pushing the glass door shut behind him. Breathing hard, Rodney watched him pace back and forth, nodding, for about a minute. Then Rodney lunged for the door. Teyla flung her body into the way. Her face stern, she said, "You must give him space."

Rodney waved his arms and made incoherent noises.

Teyla waved her hands placatingly. "I know, I know, but you know how he is."

Rodney swore. "We should have arranged a signal!"

Then the room phone on the table rang. Rodney yelled "Oh God!" and lunged for it, snatching it on the second ring. "Yes?" he said tensely.

O'Neill's voice demanded, "What are you doing?"

"We're waiting for you to get off your ass and call us!" Rodney shouted in fury.

"Did Mitchell call Sheppard?"

"Yes, yes, he's talking to him now, what--"

"Is everybody decent?"

"Of course we're decent! What--"

The phone made a weird buzzing noise, and that was when Rodney got it. "Oh, for the--" He turned to Teyla in exasperation. "He's going to beam--"

There was a burst of white light in the center of the room, then Elizabeth and O'Neill were standing there. O'Neill was in dress blues and looked complacent and Elizabeth was wearing a very intimidating red and gray executive power suit and looked frazzled. She was saying, "--tell him that-- Oh, Goddammit, Jack!"

"He said they were decent." O'Neill turned to look at Rodney. His brows lifted. "He lied."

That was when Rodney realized he was only wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. "Never mind that," he shouted. "What, what--" Then he already knew, because Elizabeth was smiling in relief.

She said, "It's good news. They agreed to John's assignment as commanding officer of Atlantis."

Rodney said, "Oh. Good." And then had to sit down on the floor abruptly and put his head between his knees.

It got surreal again after that. Elizabeth brought Rodney a glass of water and a wet washcloth for his head and told O'Neill that she didn't give a damn if he was in a hurry, she was taking the day off. Teyla invited them to lunch, explaining that "Dr. McKay always requests enough for several people" and O'Neill wandered from room to room saying things like "This is a hotel? I thought it was somebody's house. Teal'c and I stayed at the Super 8. Nobody has a TV that big. What does a thing like that run?"

Eventually Rodney got up and staggered out onto the patio. Sheppard was off the phone, just lying back on the lounger. Rodney sat heavily next to him. Sheppard tipped down his sunglasses to ask, "You okay?"

"No, but, yes." Rodney took a deep breath. "You?"

Sheppard just grinned. "Yeah."

  
**end**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Vegas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/558589) by [ArwenLune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/ArwenLune)




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